


Of Redemption and Mercy

by lifeuhfindsaway93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Redemption, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeuhfindsaway93/pseuds/lifeuhfindsaway93
Summary: As Draco continues to fail his attempts to fulfil Voldemort’s mission, Dumbledore is inspired by the redemptions of one of his own allies to try and save Draco from the fate that awaits his path to darkness, and utilise his remorse to aid Harry, Ron and Hermione in defeating Voldemort once and for all. This leads the trio and Draco on a new path that transforms old prejudices and brings a new light of hope and mercy to them all.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, dramione
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Motivation

‘Draco’s resolve is faltering.’

Dumbledore stood in front of his desk, his back turned to Severus. His silvery hair, falling in coarse, bedraggled waves down the back of his ornate mulberry robes, shone slightly from the light coming through the windows that lined the upper walls of his office. The golden constellations embroidered along the fabric seemed to ripple, as if in motion, in the rays of the afternoon sun, contrasting greatly with the worn, weathered metal of the ring adorning his left hand. The fingers of the other hand, blackened and stiff, fiddled slightly with the ring as they traced the curious eye-like shape etched into the surface of the stone set atop the ancient jewellery.

Snape’s eyes narrowed at this comment. ‘I thought we had already discussed this matter in full. Was this not your prediction from the beginning?’

Releasing the ring, Dumbledore turned around, taking long strides towards an old, engraved stone basin resting in a nearby cabinet. He touched the tip of his wand to a spot on his left temple, extracting a long, bright thread of memory before depositing it in the silvery contents of the pensieve below. Immediately, the image of Katie Bell suspended spread-eagled in the wintry Scottish air appeared, replaced soon by the sight of Ron Weasley resting uneasily in the hospital wing.

‘Yes,’ Dumbledore murmured, leaning over the contents of the Pensieve. ‘But not this quickly. His attempts are half-hearted, desperate. Whatever his primary plan is, it is not working. And that, Severus, is a problem for us both.’

‘Am I mistaken, or did you not insist that I be the one to fulfill Draco’s mission?’

Dumbledore’s head turned sharply, a frown deeply etched upon his face. ‘Do you not see the danger inherent in his cowardice? Voldemort’s patience is not like my own. If Draco does not demonstrate progress soon, he will turn to you to finish the job much sooner than expected, harming Draco in the process.’

He descended the single step from the pensieve and began to pace the floor in front of Snape. ‘If that happens, and if there are no other Death Eaters present to witness your task, your position will not be as secure as we desperately need it to be.’

His temper rising, Snape asked somewhat forcefully, ‘And how, may I ask, do I proceed? He has already once refuted my assistance at the beginning of the Christmas holiday, as you well know….he is insistent upon finishing the task alone.’

Snape thought back to festivities professor Slughorn had thrown, trying once again to recall where Draco could have been lurking when he was caught by Filch. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Dumbledore stopped in his tracks, and turned to look at Snape directly. His eyes seemed to search Snape’s face for something. After what seemed an incredibly long stretch of time, Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore, collecting his thoughts, cut him off.

‘I need you to resume your Occlumency instruction.’

Almost immediately, a scowl appeared upon Snape’s features. He took a step towards Dumbledore, his long, black cloak trailing silently, like a shadow, behind him. ‘As I have said before,’ he spat, ‘the Potter boy is useless. The ways of Occlumency are too advanced for his simple mind. There is no point in-‘

‘Not Harry. Draco.’

Snape’s confusion must have shown on his face, for Dumbledore almost immediately continued.

‘It is evident that Draco will not be able to fulfill his task of killing me, as we have already discussed. His lack of conviction is dangerous to us if left untouched. If, however, he were to be instructed in the ways of Occlumency, Draco would be able to prevent Voldemort from breaching his mind as he continues attempting his mission, not only buying valuable time for Harry and myself to continue with our own task, but also allowing him to hide the fact that he is working for us, rather than Voldemort.’

The corner of Snape’s mouth twitched slightly, forming an incredulous smirk that was unpleasant to behold. ‘Working for us? What gives you the impression that he would ever even remotely consider-?‘

‘You do, Severus.’

Whether the flash in Snape’s eyes at this remark was anger or surprise, Dumbledore did not care. He continued, ‘You see, much like Harry, Draco was born into a life that would never be fair to him. Raised in a family dripping with prejudice and hatred, what other choices would he have had but to behave in the same garish manner, and follow in the footsteps and cruelty of his father? But he is beginning to see now the danger, the fear, the horror that that life brings with it – much like you did, Severus. All he needs is a similar motivation to leave that life behind him once and for all.’

Taking one step closer, Dumbledore’s blue eyes pierced right through Snape’s beady, black ones and into his mind. The mention of his ‘motivation’ made Snape’s chest tighten with pain and his face contort with fury. His nostrils flared, his lip curled, and beneath his robes, his knuckles turned white from gripping his wand far too tightly. Regardless, Dumbledore’s gaze remained steady, and he spoke with a startling softness that betrayed his concern.

‘We are losing, Severus. If, in your lessons, you can find something in Draco’s mind – something that can be used to unveil the beauty in a life free from hatred – we can convince him to aid us. I can show him that it is not too late for redemption, should he choose it.’

Searching for a way to circumvent this plan, Snape countered brusquely, ‘And if he refuses? Your appeal to him with my example would alert him of my position, and he would betray it to the Dark Lord almost immediately, seeking to prove himself! It would destroy all that I have sacrificed for L-‘

He stopped himself, looking flustered and angry. His face paled further, turning a nasty shade of grey that was extremely unflattering next to the starkness of the black, greasy hair hanging limply around his face. Snape’s eyes moved away from Dumbledore’s and settled somewhere over his shoulder, off into the corners of the office that were darkening with the fading sun.

Stepping in to try and curb Snape’s discomfiture, Dumbledore said swiftly, ‘He need never know of your position, Severus. Should he refuse – which, I highly doubt that he shall – he would be refusing the offer from me, not you. He will not know that the weaknesses which I present to him were procured from his mind by you. As far as he is concerned, they are simply a product of my own masterful abilities as a legilimens.’

Snape could see that arguing would prove fruitless, and so remained silent. Satisfied, Dumbledore turned and walked back towards his desk, stopping to rest both hands on the edge of the rough, carved mahogany wood.

‘This is essential. His presence on their side will provide some of the most valuable information we can hope to gain. As a youth, he will be disregarded by many of his superiors, labeled as weak – overlooked as if he were not worth their time. But that will leave him free to sit back. To listen. He will hear things, whispers behind Voldemort’s back that will be vital to us, and will prove fatal to him.’

Dumbledore straightened up slowly, and revolved to look at Snape once more. ‘I know I already ask too much of you, Severus. But this can help guarantee Harry’s success. And, perhaps, save a soul in the process.’

Snape met Dumbledore’s eyes once more, and saw steely resolve coupled with genuine sorrow resting behind them. He nodded, causing a sad, but hopeful smile to cross Dumbledore’s face underneath the long, silver beard.

‘I am, once more, in your debt, Severus. You may go.’

And with that, Snape turned and walked out of the office, Dumbledore’s gaze following the end of his trailing cloak until it swept through the doorway and out of sight.


	2. Flashes of Colour

Draco’s impatient gait echoed throughout the corridor. His eyes shifted constantly - left, right, behind him - there was an anxiety lacing his actions that had never been there before. The past several months, with the many late nights completing assignments that were delayed in lieu his mission, had been draining him to the point of collapse. Never before had there been dark circles quite so profound on Draco’s pale face, making his cerulean eyes even more striking in comparison. He had thinned considerably, and his robes - once perfectly tailored - now swung loose and morose around him as he neared the dungeons.

Slightly irritated at Snape for removing him from class (and nervously aware of Potter's bespectacled eyes boring into the back of his head as he strode out of the room), Draco frantically contemplated the numerous possibilities for this unwelcome meeting, with his encounter at Slughorn's Christmas party standing out most profoundly in his mind, taking over his thoughts. 'So,' he thought jauntily, 'He'll be asking to assist me again, no doubt - he’s gasping for any glory he can get his hands on. Slytherin ambition, indeed.' Draco gave a short, dark laugh as he continued walking, but his face reflected no mirth as his brows furrowed further, his mind wandering once again to his mission. He knew his time was running out, and fast. It wouldn’t be much longer until the Dark Lord would lose his temper, and his insides twisted at the thought of what that would entail for him. His hands adopted the nervous shake they’d taken on in the last few weeks since Christmas. The warning he’d received then still haunted his nights, causing what little restful sleep he usually enjoyed to elude him. This was instead replaced with images of fangs and fire permeating his mind and frigid sweat penetrating his pyjamas.

As if on auto-pilot, he turned towards the potion-master's office. Still preoccupied with his thoughts, the knot in his stomach began to writhe and move upwards, tightening in his throat and making his breaths shallow and fast. What if Snape had found out about the Room of Requirement? Draco slowed as he approached the aged oak door, coming to a stop as his father filled his mind. Under no circumstances could Snape help; not when Lucius Malfoy's gratitude was within Draco's grasp. He moved his hand to grasp the knocker at the door, but it swung open quickly, revealing Snape sitting behind his desk, his wand in the air. Draco noticed a basin to the left of the professor, filled to the brim with what looked like liquid silver. There were vials in a stand on the large weathered desk, but before Draco could voice the many questions running through his mind, Snape spoke.

‘Come in.’

Draco took a few steps forward, then stopped, keeping a large distance between himself and the basin and looking at Snape skeptically. The door snapped shut behind him.

‘Why is it you summoned me, professor?’ Draco asked, attempting to prevent exhaustion from leaching into his voice.

Snape pursed his lips. ‘I am aware of the mission which the Dark Lord has given you, as you well know.’ At this, it was Draco's turn to narrow his eyes, but Snape pressed on curtly. ‘I am also aware that you are not making progress at a rate which is acceptable to the Dark Lord.’

Draco blinked, panic rising inside of him. ‘Has - has he spoken to you?’

Snape continued to stare, and considered the tall, pale figure in front of him. He seemed to be quivering slightly. Pressing a little into Draco's mind, he sensed enormous fear - as well as cold feet. After a long pause, he answered finally, ‘No. However, it is abundantly clear that if you were committing yourself to this task wholeheartedly, it would have been completed already.’

His mouth opening in rage, Draco could no longer prevent the tremor from entering his voice. ‘Not committing wholeheartedly? What do you know? I’ve at least been given this task, he - he trusts me. If he trusted you to do it he would have given you the mission instead! If - if he thought that you-‘

‘Don't delude yourself,’ Snape barked. ‘If the Dark Lord had wanted this done immediately he would have charged me with the task. This is a test for you, for your loyalty - and so far you have shown no sign of loyalty, only fear. That is your motivation, and that is something the Dark Lord can detect. Even that seems to be waning, replaced only with a wish to escape.’

Draco made to argue, but couldn’t formulate the words. His mouth became dry, his tongue numb. 'He knows,' he thought miserably. 'He knows I don’t want to do this anymore. He'll kill me, he'll kill me…..'

His mind began to race, paralysing him with fear. He felt the room spinning around him, and backed up into the wall to balance himself and keep from falling over. Snape stood and placed his hands on both sides of the desk.

‘The Dark Lord,’ he murmured, ‘Has powers far beyond your comprehension. Any trace of a disloyal inclination, and he will sense it. His legilimency is unlike any other. Except, perhaps, that of Dumbledore.’

At the mention of his headmaster's name, Draco’s mind immediately sprang out of its stupor. ‘What are you going on about?’ he snapped angrily. ‘Does the old crack know what-‘

‘No,’ Snape interrupted, ‘but Potter has been voicing suspicions against you. Fervently. He’s put you into Dumbledore's path and if you are summoned for questioning there will be nothing you can do to defend yourself. He will penetrate your mind with ease. Nothing will be hidden.’

Snape paused, and watched as Draco's eyes lost focus. The fear etched upon his face was all too familiar; that same fear had masked his own once. Before Draco could say anything, Snape continued. ‘This is what I wish to help with.’

Draco slowly looked up at him, and Snape walked out from behind his desk, temporarily blocking the light emanating from the strange, shining basin. ‘Allow me to teach you Occlumency,’ he said. ‘It can shield you from any legilimency that Dumbledore or the Dark Lord himself may wish to invoke upon your mind, protecting you from their respective wraths.’

His mind whirring with excitement, Draco paused and considered this offer. Doubt began to cloud his mind once again. ‘How do I know you won't impose on my mind, trying to find out more about my task?’ He asked snidely.

At this, Snape turned around to face his desk, and grabbed a vial from out of the stand. He took his wand and, placing it to his temple, drew out a long silvery thread. He placed it in the vial, corked it shut, and set it down behind him. ‘Thoughts of your mission will be removed prior to each lesson and placed in these vials, and you can restore them to your mind after the lesson has concluded. I need never know what it is you’re doing.’

They both stood there, looking at each other for a long time. Emotions coursed through Draco’s mind - fear, relief, anger; was he being weak? How dare Snape assume he could not finish the mission? But if the Dark Lord ever found out….

Finally, he began to nod ever so slowly. ‘Fine. I'll do it.’

Snape straightened up, removed another memory from his temple, and rather than placing it in a vial, laid it instead inside the basin. He grabbed hold of the other vial and poured its contents into the basin as well.

‘Then let's begin.’

Draco gave a start. ‘What, now? I’m in the middle of class professor, you can't possibly expect-‘

‘I expect that any day now Dumbledore may summon you to his office and inquire about your activities, and that you need to begin preparations now,’ Snape responded sharply, with a cold look in his eye.

Pursing his lips, Draco said nothing, which Snape took to mean as compliance. ‘Take out your wand.’

Draco withdrew his wand from his robes as Snape raised his own, pointing it straight at Draco's chest. ‘Clear your mind.’ Shutting his eyes tightly, Draco tried to focus on nothing; on black, cold emptiness, but the piercing glint of two eyes, red and snakelike, continually haunted him.

He opened his eyes just as Snape uttered, ‘Legilimens,’ but before he could react, he felt a disturbing, foreign presence in his mind - as though every thought, feeling, urge he had ever had was being scrutinised. Almost immediately, the office fell away before him, and he was - in his home?

The cold, stone floors of Malfoy Manor hit hard under his feet, and he saw the figure of his father standing before him, his long blonde hair tied neatly behind his back as he faced the empty fireplace. Off to his side, he saw his mother standing near their enormous bookshelf, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes on the Persian rug below her feet.

‘F-father?’ Draco stared, incredulously, at the sight of Lucius Malfoy before him.

Lucius turned, and looked directly at Draco, his unfeeling eyes boring into his core. ‘An utter disappointment,’ he spat, taking a step closer. ‘How could you have come second in your studies to a Mudblood, of all people? Again?’

Dread began to seep throughout Draco’s limbs; he was confused, forgetting that this had already happened and opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a higher, younger voice echoed throughout the chamber. ‘But father,’ it pleaded, ‘I did everything I could….’

‘Everything? You shrugged off your studies, letting that disgrace for a witch show you up. And,’ Lucius laughed mirthlessly, ‘you allowed Potter to best you at Quidditch! Made a complete fool of yourself, humiliating our entire family in the process…’

‘Father I’m sorry, I tried but-‘

‘SORRY?’ Lucius bellowed, his eyes glinting with a malice not present there before. Moving so fast it was difficult to catch, Lucius’s arm swung out, and though Draco was still several steps back, he still felt the echo of the strike his father had given him stinging his face, his eyes beginning to fill with tears once more. He looked for help over to where his mother stood, but her gaze remained at the floor - though her face seemed to be sorrowful.

‘You don’t deserve to be a Malfoy.’

As these words left Lucius's mouth, a slight, strangled whimper escaped from Draco as his knees buckled beneath him. Without warning, the room dissolved away, and he felt a sharp pain where he slammed his knee onto the stone floor. He leaned forward, hands clasping the edge of the desk, his breathing heavy. He felt Snape's presence off to his right, and as soon as he recovered his breath, rose from the floor, his face flush with anger.

‘How - DARE - you-‘

‘The Dark Lord will have access to memories far less trivial than that, if you do not learn to control yourself.’

‘You have no right…’ Draco began to splutter, but Snape interjected.

‘That will be all for today. You will meet me here at 8 o’clock next Wednesday evening for your subsequent lesson. Do not miss it.’

Snape returned to behind his desk and sat down, examining some papers present there and refusing to meet Draco's eye. After standing there incredulously a few more moments, Draco pivoted and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

—— ——- ——

And so the lessons continued, Draco returning week after week and showing significant progress - progress that Potter had never demonstrated, much to Snape's twisted pleasure. Time went on, with Draco continuously reliving many of his most haunted moments, which consisted usually of fearful encounters with his father or terrifying glimpses of the Dark Lord. These memories, as Snape discussed with Dumbledore, were not what was needed to properly motivate Draco in the right direction. He did not seem to be revealing even a trace of such a memory - until one evening, a month into the Occlumency lessons.

Draco knocked, entered, and removed the memories of his mission, as usual. Per routine, Snape stood up, emptied his own memories into the Pensieve, and placed himself in front of the desk, wand raised at Draco. Breathing deeply, Draco attempted to clear his mind, then stared determinedly at Snape. The professor opened his mouth, and stated firmly, ‘Legilimens,’ and felt himself falling into the depths of Draco’s mind.

Rather than being greeted with the usual unpleasant sight of the Malfoys’ living room, Snape was startled to find himself out on the front lawn at Hogwarts. There were bushes that had been enchanted to sprout and form a garden, fairies lighting the space around them, a layer of powdered snow blanketing the grounds. He looked and saw the image of a younger, healthier Draco, dressed in the finest of robes for the Yule Ball and standing solitary at the door to the castle. Snape walked over to the lone figure and followed it as it walked into the Great Hall.

The chairs, walls, and ceiling were gilded with a layer of sparkling frost, and most of the students seemed to have cleared out for the evening, though some stragglers remained. The band was playing an upbeat tune, and a few dancers were present on the floor. The younger Draco walked out amongst the many silver tables, staying near the outer fringes of the hall, out of sight from most of the students and finally stopped to lean against the wall. Snape was about to turn and leave the memory when he saw Draco's head turn sharply in another direction. Snape followed his gaze, and saw a flash of brilliant, periwinkle blue move past him, laughing merrily, and the sweet scent of Sleakeazy’s hair grease met his crooked nose. He turned just quickly enough to see a head of sleek brown hair spin past him, accompanied by a slightly stooped but powerfully built Durmstrang student, both smiling broadly.

Snape looked back quickly at the young Draco, and saw a scowl adorning his face. Snape felt the entire hall fill with the anger, the pain, the longing that radiated off of Draco and coursed through his memory, and the room began to shake around them. Snape felt himself pulled forcibly out of the memory and back into his office, where he stood, bewildered, before Draco. His wand was pointed directly at Snape’s chest, and his whole body seemed to be trembling - not from fear, but from an unprecedented rage. There was a long silence, and the two stared at one another, both breathing heavily. For the first time, Draco's eyes were alight with a passionate fury that Snape had once felt within himself. But those eyes were not purely furious - they were tinged with a sadness, too, a sadness that had lingered within Snape's own mind for years, a constant plague upon his senses.

After what felt like hours, Draco lowered his wand, his hand still shaking in anger. Without a word spoken between the two of them, Draco grabbed the vials containing his memories, whipped around, and strode from the office, quickly vanishing from Snape's astounded gaze. He had found Draco’s redeemer.


	3. A New Proposition

‘And you are sure it was Ms. Granger?’ Dumbledore’s gaze, while expressionless, could not mask the surprise which his voice betrayed. 

‘There was no mistaking her,’ Snape replied nastily. After the slightest of pauses, he continued, ‘Although I can sympathise completely with your….shock.’ There was a sneer on his face as though a foul odour had met his unpleasantly hooked nose.

‘Severus,’ Dumbledore said harshly. ‘There is no need for further commentary.’

Snape remained silent, but glowered all the same. Dumbledore sat alert behind his magnificent desk, his healthy hand stroking the tip of his long, silvery beard while his blackened one lay still upon the armrest. As his mind raced, flashes of thought danced across his strikingly blue eyes, portraying a liveliness and vigor which had been absent in his aged, lined face in the past few months.

‘Does Draco know what you saw, Severus?’

‘He is fully aware,’ came the curt reply.

‘And his reaction?’

Snape thought for a second. ‘I was not under the impression that this was a memory I was meant to witness, Headmaster.’

Dumbledore’s eyebrows furrowed, and a frown began to cross his face. ‘Do you think he will continue to attend your lessons?’

‘He left in a state which did not convey any inclination to return, no.’

‘Then you must find a way to persuade him,’ Dumbledore responded as he rose from his seat, resting his hands on the wooden desktop before him. ‘Harry has not yet been able to complete the task with which I have charged him. Until he does, we are hopeless. In the dark. You have to give us more time, Severus. That is essential.’

Dumbledore looked at Snape gravely, his eyes almost pleading. Snape noted that he appeared tired, ancient; he was no longer the tower of strength that Voldemort had once feared. With all the sincerity that he could muster, Snape responded, ‘Of course, Headmaster.’And with that, he left the room.

\--- --- ---

Draco’s eyes were sliding in and out of focus as he attempted to concentrate on his Defense against the Dark Arts exam. He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that, when not otherwise occupied by glaring at or belittling the Gryffindors, Snape was staring quite intently at him from the front of the classroom. It had been several weeks since Draco had had his last Occlumency lesson, and he fully intended to continue this leave of absence. He did not desire a repeat of the previous episode, nor did he wish in the slightest to discuss the matter with Snape.

‘List the practical applications for Occlumency, specifying in particular the ways in which it can be useful in a dueling scenario,’ read the last question. 'As if targeting me outside of the classroom weren’t nuisance enough,' thought Draco. 'Naturally, he has to weasel his argument into the lessons as well...'

For the past several weeks, Draco had taken extreme precautions to avoid Snape around the castle, but regardless of where he went - the dungeons, the Great Hall, even the seventh floor dangerously near the Room of Requirement - Snape was there; lurking, waiting to catch Draco alone. But Draco ensured that he never was. Crabbe and Goyle served as particularly useful company under the guise of Polyjuice Potion, for their presence was enough to dissuade Snape from open confrontation. Reflecting on this, Draco let out a faint snort. 'At least those two are good for something,' he thought. But, even Crabbe and Goyle’s presence could not shield Draco completely - for no matter where he was throughout the castle, he could sense Snape intruding into his thoughts, forcing him to constantly maintain his Occlumency practice throughout each day. Even if Draco didn’t have to suffer through these mental trespasses, it was still impossible for Crabbe and Goyle’s protection to extend into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, having earned two hefty T’s (for Troll) in their O.W.L.s last year. This had been the first T’s to come out of Slytherin house in nearly a century, infuriating Snape so much that he had docked forty points from his own house. Even this memory, while amusing, could not return a smirk to Draco’s pallid features, as he sat and finished the last question on his exam. 

Glancing at the freshly emptied hourglass before him, Snape announced, ‘Quills down,’ and nearly forty sets of frantically writing hands stopped at once. With a slight flick of his wand, the rolls of parchment flew into Snape’s outstretched palm, landing in a neatly stacked pile which he soon deposited upon his desk. The students rose as one and departed from the classroom, Draco exiting as quickly as possible so as to avoid being cornered by Snape. He felt Potter’s green eyes staring daggers into him, and was ashamedly aware of another set of eyes - this time the deepest and warmest of browns - following his physique out of the room….

He hurried off to the Great Hall, eager to eat lunch before depositing his books in his dormitory and heading off to the Room of Requirement. Despite the fact that he hadn’t felt hungry in months, Draco’s now-permanent faintness and exhaustion from sleepless nights compelled him to try and stomach some food. 

Walking through the massive archway leading into the Hall, Draco turned left and had started striding along the length of the Slytherin table when someone caught his eye from across the room. He stopped immediately, feeling an icy panic grab hold of him from the pit of his stomach. 

It was Katie Bell. 

No, he thought miserably, feeling his whole frame begin to shake. Panicked thoughts began to form in his mind. 'She can’t be back, Borgin said the necklace’s damage would be permanent; she could remember, what if she remembers…..?'

She looked at him inquisitively, and she wasn’t the only one. He had begun to attract a lot of attention in the Hall, as people from all tables started to look up from their plates. From somewhere off to his left, Blaise called out to him, ‘You alright?’ but Draco heard nothing, his focus entirely on Katie. Slowly, the look on her face began to change. Her eyes narrowed. Did she remember? 'No, she can’t, not now….'

Finally breaking eye contact, Draco spun around, marching as quickly as possible from the Hall before breaking into a full-on sprint as he cleared the doorway. He dodged a group of second years chatting gaily in the corridor, their small shouts of surprise fading as he headed straight for the lavatory. A cold sweat began to form on his neck, his hands, his face. Mere minutes ago he had felt nothing but exhaustion; now he felt nothing at all but the terror consuming him, like the flames of a dragon, from the inside-out. The image of the corridor swam before him; each breath he took was another dagger to his lungs, he could feel the force of his stride as he ran, each footfall another jolting shock to his already crumbling body. His heartbeat could not be contained.

After what felt like hours, the door to the lavatory came into view before him. Slamming his hands on the rough oaken wood, he burst through the doorway, bruising himself in the process. His mind whirled; the blood roaring in his ears was not nearly enough to deafen the terrifying thoughts plaguing his mind. Draco weakly made his way over to a sink, gripping its porcelain sides for support and feeling as if he were moments away from fainting onto the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him. He stood, gasping for breath. The clutch of his tie strangling him, he quickly tore it out from underneath his collar, discarding it onto the ground nearby. The outer edges of his vision went black as he slowly raised his head to stare into the depths of the sunken, lifeless eyes looking back at him. Draco could not recognize his own face. 

Without warning, all of the terror came flooding back at once, and he felt his eyes contort as the warm sting of tears began to flow down his features. He stood, shaking uncontrollably. ‘I can’t,’ he moaned aloud. ‘I can’t….’

The temperature in the room fell drastically, and the lonesome figure of Moaning Myrtle came floating towards him, her enormous eyes watching him with great concern. Draco looked down at the sink, avoiding her gaze, unable to control the sobs wracking his body. ‘Don’t,’ crooned Moaning Myrtle’s voice. ‘Don’t….tell me what’s wrong….I can help you…’

‘No one can help me,’ said Draco. ‘I can’t do it...I can’t....it won’t work...and unless I do it soon...he says he’ll kill me….’

Inhaling as deeply and slowly as he could manage, Draco attempted to control his breathing, and returned his eyes to the mirror. But he and Myrtle were no longer alone. Eyes widening, he saw the partially concealed outline of Potter standing behind the door, with what appeared to be a piece of parchment dangling from his hand. 

Without thinking, Draco whipped around. He drew his wand and sent a curse flying straight towards Potter’s chest. He dodged it, reaching for his own wand, and attempted to return the curse, which Draco blocked. They dueled, back and forth, basins and stalls bursting apart and showering them both with splinters of glass and wood. Draco felt cold sprays of water drenching his clothes, and heard Myrtle’s awful shriek rising above the chaos. He opened his mouth to direct another attack, when he was interrupted by Potter.

Draco felt it before he could process what Potter had said. 

It was unearthly. A searing pain unlike anything he had ever imagined enveloped him entirely. He felt his skin slice open from the inside out, and the warm, sticky sensation of blood spread across his body. It was everywhere, his arms, his chest, his face….no part of him was left untouched. He screamed out in agony, but heard nothing. All he could comprehend was the torture of what felt like thousands of daggers cutting him to rivets as he lay in a growing pool of his own blood. 'Just finish it,' he begged to himself. 'Let it end, please, never make me see him again….' The stone beneath him felt more and more inviting, the daggers were fading away….

Sounds began to return. Draco heard an angry shout, followed by repeated murmuring above him. He felt the wounds on his body begin to close; the pain returned in an enormous wave, the force of which knocked him unconscious in an instant, and he felt no more. 

\--- --- --- 

He could hear soft breathing. Draco attempted to open his eyes, but the brightness of the sun streaming through the windows of the hospital wing forced them shut again. He motioned to sit up, but his skin screamed at him in protest, feeling as delicate as though it were made of parchment, and would tear with the slightest movement. Settling his head back onto the down-soft pillow, Draco sensed something shift in front of him which blocked the sun. He braced himself for more blindness, and opened his bleary eyes. He blinked multiple times, and everything began to sharpen into focus. Standing benignly at the foot of his bed was Dumbledore.

Draco’s eyes widened quickly in a panic, then narrowed into a sneer, feigning composure. But Dumbledore returned his gaze kindly, refusing to break eye contact. ‘Good morning,’ the deep voice rumbled. ‘Or, I suppose it would be more appropriate to say, evening.’ Draco looked past Dumbledore and off into the distance, but said nothing. 

‘How are you feeling?’

Still no answer. 

‘I take it you wish to know what day it is?’

Draco continued to remain silent, but his eyes flicked momentarily to Dumbledore at this query. Without missing a beat, Dumbledore smiled, and said, ‘You have been in the hospital for around a week now. Your injuries were fairly extensive, and Madame Pomfrey has been working tirelessly to restore you back to health again.’

Finally, Draco decided to speak. ‘Where is Madame Pomfrey?’ It was painful to utter, as his throat felt incredibly raw. Sensing this, Dumbledore raised his wand, made a whirling motion, and a glass of water appeared at Draco’s bedside. He refused to touch it, and stared back at Dumbledore coldly. 

Sighing, Dumbledore responded, ‘I asked Madame Pomfrey to leave. I wished for this conversation to remain private.’ 

At this, Draco felt his stomach tighten, and every muscle in his body tensed. 'This is it,' he thought. 'This is what Snape warned me about….'

‘Yes, I had a feeling you would know what I came to discuss.’

Draco blinked in surprise. Although Snape had told him of Dumbledore’s Legilimency, the potency of his capabilities was still jarring. Draco tried to clear out his thoughts, to put up a barrier...but his mind felt clouded and weak. Every memory that he attempted to conceal instead came swirling to the front of his mind; Voldemort’s cold, snakelike gaze; the force of his father’s hand on his cheek; a flash of brightest blue….

‘Draco,’ Dumbledore spoke softly, his eyebrows furrowing with what appeared to be concern. ‘I know that Lord Voldemort has instructed you to kill me.’

At the sound of the Dark Lord’s name, Draco winced, but continued to glare at Dumbledore resolutely. He spat, ‘Fine. You know what’s happening - kill me, then. If you don’t, I’m a dead man anyway.’

As he said these words aloud, Draco felt his voice tremble slightly, the weakness angering him further. Refusing to look at Dumbledore any longer, he turned once more to stare out the windows, feeling Dumbledore’s gaze upon him. 

‘Alright, then,’ Dumbledore spoke casually, rising to his feet. Draco looked at him, panic gripping his throat before Dumbledore continued. ‘But you realise, if I were to kill you, you would never be able to see Ms. Granger again?’

His insides went numb. Without meaning to, he felt his jaw drop slightly, shock clearly showing upon his face. ‘Why should I care? All she is is a filthy little Mudblood.’ But even as he said these words, he knew there was nothing that could be done to hide what was in his mind. Uncontrollably, he felt his eyes sting, but he managed to compose himself before Dumbledore sat on the bed next to him, leaning in slightly. His eyes penetrated Draco’s mind, and it seemed as if every thought, every feeling he had ever had was on display for Dumbledore’s viewing.

‘Draco,’ His voice lowered to barely a whisper, and Draco felt himself shifting slightly in order to hear better. ‘Soon, she will be in very grave danger. She will have to encounter the most perilous of circumstances - some of which might be brought upon her by your hand.’

Guilt exploded in the pit of his stomach, and after a slight pause, Dumbledore continued, ‘This does not have to be the case. It is fully within your power to ensure that no harm ever befalls her.’

Draco looked up at Dumbledore, not daring to show the hope on his face that he felt in his heart. He wanted nothing more than to know what he could do to fix every mistake, every decision he had ever made that may have put her in harm’s way. But pride still had a tight hold on him, and he remained silent. 

‘I need you to do something for me, Draco. If you do all that I ask of you, you will be guaranteeing that she will be protected. And, with some luck, you will be able to escape the life that you have been forced to endure.’

‘And why exactly would I want to do that?’

‘Because you did not choose this life. It was crafted for you, quite unfairly. And if you simply listen to what I ask of you, you can redeem yourself in the eyes of the world….and the eyes of Ms. Granger as well.’

Draco looked at him skeptically, still refusing to believe his ears. ‘And how would I do that?’

‘Ah...you see, therein lies the problem,’ Dumbledore responded mysteriously. ‘I cannot tell you how to achieve this if you do not swear to me that you will carry out all that I ask of you to do. It will be dangerous, to be sure, and it is quite possible that you may have several brushes with death before you are finished. But, if you succeed, Draco, you will be saving countless innocent lives...including your own.’

Draco’s mind began to race. 'It can’t be true,' he thought. 'He’s got to be lying; but if he’s not...'

‘I believe you are familiar with the Unbreakable Vow?’

He looked up, his heart beginning to beat faster. ‘Of course,’ he said jauntily. ‘You don’t honestly expect me to-?’

‘I cannot,’ Dumbledore interrupted, ‘Divulge even a whisper of information to you, unless you give me your word.’

Draco thought of his family; of everything he had ever known. He saw terrifying flashes of Voldemort before him, but these thoughts were quickly displaced by those of Hermione….Was Dumbledore putting them there?

‘I’m afraid there isn’t much time to make a decision, Draco.’

She was smiling at him, laughing with him...he had a life that was finally happy; he was at peace, no longer terrorised by the hatred and fear that had raised him - that had consumed him his entire life. It was close, it was just within his reach….

‘Draco.’

Dumbledore’s voice jolted Draco out of his thoughts. Now was his chance. Without blinking, without pausing to reconsider, Draco looked at Dumbledore, and slowly pulled up the right sleeve of his pyjamas. His hand shook as he began to extend his arm, but for the first time in months, his mind was steady. Dumbledore’s face broke into the brightest of smiles as he reached out and gripped Draco’s arm firmly. His blackened hand raised his wand from where it had been resting in the folds of his robes beside him. 

Then, finally, he began to speak.


End file.
